Diary of Catherine Morland
by Laurel Amsterdam
Summary: A deeper look into the story of Northanger Abbey. There is more to Catherine than meets the eye.
1. 15 January 1798

_Northanger Abbey has always had a special place in my heart. Austen's wit comes through so clearly in it, you cannot help laughing at every other sentence. Catherine is not nearly as praised or lauded a heroine as she should be. When Catherine first meets Henry Tilney, he tells her what she should write in her diary about him. She teases him in reply, "but, perhaps, I keep no journal." Mr. Tilney replies, "Perhaps you are not sitting in this room, and I am not sitting by you."_

_Yes, Mr. Tilney, she did keep a journal. And here it is._

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><p>January 15, 1798<p>

I am going to Bath! Such news merits an entry in my long abandoned diary. Poor Mr. Allen has the gout, and will go and take the waters. And I am to accompany them! While I cannot credit Mr. and Mrs. Allen with many delightful invitations, this one far exceeds any they might have done. I have thanked them several times already, and will continue to show my thanks by being a good companion to Mrs. Allen, as my mother says I must.

Mrs. Allen is not my favorite companion. I sometimes wonder why Mr. Allen married her at all, as they do seem ill suited for one another. He is such a clever man, and Mrs. Allen cares nothing for cleverness, only for frivolities. I would never say such a thing aloud, and it is shockingly horrid of me to even think such things. I know nothing of husbands and wives. I must take care to keep this diary hidden. It would not do for the Allen's to see it and think me ungrateful.

I wish my sister Sarah could come with me. She is only one year my junior, and just as mature as I am, I daresay. I asked Mama if Sarah could come too, but she says that is impossible.

"The Allen's would have invited her too if they wanted her to accompany them, Catherine," Mama said.

"Perhaps they did not realize she is sixteen now? She has as much right to go into society as I have."

Mama sighed. "Oh, Catherine. That is not the only thing to be taken into account. We must be grateful for their generosity and leave it at that. It would be the height of impropriety to ask to bring Sarah."

"Yes," I said reluctantly. "I suppose you are right. But if I am able, I will mention it in my next conversation to Mrs. Allen. I shall seek her out after tomorrow's service." I smiled at the thought of my excellent plan. "I shall be very discrete."

At that, Mama laughed aloud. "Catherine, you had better not say anything at all. Your version of discretion is not enough for a delicate situation. I think you must resign yourself to the fact that Sarah will stay at home, and you will go to Bath. I daresay Mrs. Allen will invite her another year."

So we left it at that. Though I am looking forward to the holiday and seeing the city, I will miss Sarah ever so much. And I shall worry too. She has been a little sad ever since Mr. Allen's new heir came to visit over Christmas. I think more must have passed between them than what I saw. He was only polite and kind when in company, though I cannot know what he is like in private. Sarah has not told me of any other interactions, but her mood was so light and happy during his visit, and so low afterward. I wonder if she will tell me before I go. I am not quite as scatterbrained as my family thinks. I am not always reading when looking at the page of a book. I listen, too.

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><p><em>Thanks to all who review. Hope you enjoy reading.<em>


	2. 20 January 1798

January 20, 1798

I am finally ready to go. I never imagined how tiresome preparations for a six week excursion would be. Sarah, Mama and I spent hours upon hours altering several of my gowns. But that would be stretching the truth, as Mama would not let me touch much of anything. I was relegated to letting out hems and side seams in my undergarments. Though I am grateful, since Sarah does beautiful embroidery and is the one I always ask to help mend things.

My skills are really not so very terrible, I must say. But there was not extra time or material for error. Now, however, all that is finished. I do wish I had not grown so very much recently. It is such a bother. It is getting more and more difficult to climb my reading tree. I barely fit in it at all now. 'Tis a wonder I have not fallen out and broken my neck.

I have lain awake these past nights, wondering about what is to come. I know so little about Bath or what to expect. Mama says only that I should wear my scarf when out at night, and to keep track of the money I spend. I was hoping for a little more advice from her, but I believe she has as little knowledge of what is to come as myself, which is limited to Mrs. Allen's effusions of grandeur and delight, and advertisements in the paper for health cures.

As for Sarah, she continues to circumvent my questions. Tomorrow is my last full day before departure. I will spend it with her.

_Later that night, after midnight_

Nightshade escaped again tonight. He came back only after I went out with Barta, who sniffed him out. I talked him into following us back, and made sure he had some fresh hay before I came back inside. When we first met, I had no idea that Nightshade would become so attached to me. It was only last September that the Durston's were at their wit's end with him. Mama and I happened to be visiting Mrs. Durston, and we were walking out to our carriage when Nightshade bolted into view, frightening our carriage horses so much that Mr. Pitt, our driver, was nearly wrenched from his seat.

Nightshade was a beautiful sight. His long brown hair flew threw the air as he galloped toward us. Mama was in a terror. I have always been good with horses, but had never tried to tame a horse so I did not know anything useful to help with our predicament. I knew only he seemed frightened, so I tried to do the least frightening thing I could think of. I sang. One could argue that my singing is the most frightening thing one has ever heard, (if one's name is Sarah, that is). But Nightshade did not share Sarah's opinion, thank goodness. He warmed to the song, and came to me.

The rest is history, I suppose. The Durston's sold him to us for very little. Nightshade became my horse. He is quite a beast, and is quite unlike the typical ladies mare one reads about in novels. I have always preferred boys' sport to ladies' pursuits, so it is little wonder I should prefer Nightshade to a proper mount for a lady. For I am a lady, I daresay. Perhaps. Does seventeen years make a lady? Hopefully I can pretend to be one anyway, at least for the duration of our visit to Bath. Mrs. Allen would infinitely prefer a polite and ladylike companion, I think, especially compared to what I truly am—a nosy bluestocking with tomboy inclinations.

But I digress. I cannot imagine what might happen to Nightshade if I am not here to calm him. No. That's a lie. I can imagine it, but I do not wish to. He has been acting up ever since my preparations for departure began. I should have thought of it before now, but I must contrive a way to bring him to Bath.

I am warm now, so will put down my pen and sleep. Goodnight, dear diary.


End file.
